


Different Kind of Home

by orphan_account



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10052534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It’s him and it’s her, and they’re right here. Who needs more? Certainly not him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for the bethyweek prompt 'awake'. :)

He’s awake more often than not. Now that there is no prison, no city, no four walls to keep them safe, Daryl finds himself unable to rest most of the time. He doesn’t wonder how the others manage to close their eyes and drift off into sweet nothingness; he knows. They can dream because of someone like him by their side, watching over them. It’s a good thing, he believes. But nothing he ever experienced himself.

When Daryl was a kid, he learnt pretty fast that having a deep sleep was a bad idea. Always be prepared, Merle thought him. Sleep with one eye open. Daryl understood quickly why that was a better. That way, he saw his old man coming and could prepare himself for what was to happen. Nothing worse than rising from a good dream to the terror of reality.

His ability to be always on alert comes in handy these days. They’ve left Alexandria some time ago, after it burnt down to the ground. They’re on the run again, looking for new shelter, another place they can call ‘home’ for another short period of time.

Of course Daryl sees the others suffering. They’re longing for a permanent place where they can feel safe, where they can return to a more or less normal life. Daryl doesn’t want his old life back. After all, has he really lost anything, Merle aside? No, certainly not. He’s grown enough to understand them though, to see their point of view and get that not everyone has a dark past they’d rather forget.

Home...he’s stopped thinking he’d find it in a place. Home can be found in the smallest things. Like a shared deer around a fireplace, with the knowledge that he’s surrounded by loved ones. Or a restless night when sleep won’t come although Rick’s on watch with Michonne and he knows they’re safe. During those nights he’s lying by her side, wide awake and caught in the moment. Beth sleeps well like this, with her back to his chest and his arms wrapped around her. Nothing’s gonna happen to her. She knows. It warms his heart that she does.

Daryl’s never been a tactile person. Physical contact often comes with pain, so he’s learnt ages ago. He’s learnt to hug with his new family, but Beth...she’s taught him so much more. Thanks to her, he knows what it’s like to feel fingertips ghosting over heated skin, lips leaving featherlight kisses, hands exploring, bodies meeting, pressed close together until they seem to melt into each other.

It’s good, he learns. So sweet and so lovely and so much like home. Now she’s not touching him, but he can still feel her. There’s the soft intake and release of breath, the faint beating of her heart, the way she moves in her sleep, inching just a tiny bit further against him. When he adjusts his position, he can see her too. Can see her relaxed face with the soft hint of a smile, the closed eyes and wild blonde hair.

He can’t resist her then. Has to lean in and whisper a kiss onto the smooth skin of her cheek. Daryl can see when she remains asleep, when she stirs slightly or when she rises from a dream. He knows how to read her, like she knows to read him.

Daryl understands why the others mourn their old ‘home’, why they feel like they’ve lost something. The utopia of a normal life. He, however, has lost nothing. What he has now...he’s had it back there, still has it here. He’s found home in the arms of a sweet young lady, and will never admit it because damn, that does sound cheesy. She probably knows though, and he doesn’t mind. Beth’s allowed to see him cheesy. Upset. Or amazingly happy. He doesn’t dare to say that out loud either, in fear someone might be mean enough to take it all away. 

At this moment, though, as he lies awake with her in his arms, even those darker thoughts remain absent. It’s him and it’s her, and they’re right here. Who needs more? Certainly not him.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the show. No profit is made with this fic.


End file.
